


And We Set the Road Ablaze

by lunar47



Series: Outlaws on the Run [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Tiny Bit of a Lolita AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dom Petyr, Dom Sansa, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gun Violence, Loss of Virginity, Minor Character Death, No Safeword, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Rough Sex, Sub Petyr, Uneven Power Dynamics, motel sex, outlaws on the run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunar47/pseuds/lunar47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Outlaws on the run Petyr and Sansa stop at a motel in the desert to rest. Sansa wants to play games but she may not like the end result. (Modern AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And We Set the Road Ablaze

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In Such Emptiness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455316) by [Marquise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquise/pseuds/Marquise). 



> Written for the prompt "Howlin' For You" by the Black Keys at petyrsansaweek on tumblr. Partially inspired by Marquise's In Such Emptiness.
> 
> There is a fic mix that goes with this story. You can find it here: [MIX](http://8tracks.com/lunar47/and-we-set-the-road-ablaze)

The aging Chevy El Camino flew down the dusty highway as the blazing sun started to set over the desert hills. Petyr took a remaining drag from his cigarette and threw the butt out the rolled down window. He adjusted his shades and took a glance at his rearview mirror: nothing. Just as there had been for the last 100 miles of open road. He couldn’t be too careful though. He was transporting a wanted fugitive after all.

The girl in question was reclined in the passenger seat, bare foot on the dash, staring out the window at the sterile surroundings. They say Sansa Stark killed a king. She didn’t look like a king killer to him. But then again the most vicious wolf could hide behind a lamb’s eyes. So for now they would go on the run, try to stay one step ahead of the Lannister soldiers. 

“We need to stop. I can’t take being in this car for much longer.” Sansa’s first words in hours sounded tired and worn down. They had been on the road for days, barely taking time to rest.

“We’ll stop at the next place we see. As long as it’s quiet.” He replied. 

Petyr drove on until the sky was an inky black and the howling wind died down, cyclones of dirt finally coming to rest for the day. A sign, partially obscured by rust, announced the town they were coming up on. He slowed his speed and observed the abandoned buildings lining the highway. Just past a gas station (one of the few things open) was the town’s only traffic signal, a four way blinking red light. 

A little ways down the road a neon sign lit the sky for the “Lucky Six” Motel. He pulled into the nearly empty parking lot.

“Stay in the car, Sansa.” 

“Why do I have to stay in the car?” She responded, petulantly.

“We can’t afford someone seeing you. I’ll come get you when I have a room.” He hopped out of the car and was swallowed by the oppressive desert heat. The sun had gone down but the temperature was still in the high 90’s. At least it was somewhat of a dry heat. Even so, Petyr’s shirt clung to his back in an uncomfortable way.

He rounded the car and made his way to the Motel office. Flies buzzed around him and were caught in the electric zapper to his left. The main office was cooler but not by much. Two standing fans were whirling in the background, one obviously on its last legs, the motor sputtering every time it switched direction. Fluorescent lights gave the place an unnatural glow. A television was on silently behind the counter, set to the local evening news. He scanned the headlines before ringing the bell on the desk. 

A portly man with a receding hairline and a sweat stained wife beater came out from the back. He grabbed a pen and opened his ledger, “It’s hotter than a witch’s tit ain’t it. How can I help you?”

“I need a room for tonight.”

“Just the one night?”

“Yes.” Petyr’s eye caught the TV behind the clerk again. They were showing footage from the wedding assassination. Sansa’s photo briefly appeared on screen as being wanted in connection with the murder. His stomach clenched. He glanced at the clerk but the man was focused on filling out the ledger. The news broadcast moved on to a different segment and he was able to breathe again.

“Is it just you in the room?”

“Yes.”

“What about her?”

“Who?”

The clerk pointed to behind Petyr. Sansa had wandered into the office unbeknownst to him and was browsing the tourist pamphlets. A flash of anger rose within him. The girl couldn’t follow simple instructions. She was liable to get them both killed if she wasn’t careful. The good thing was that they had enacted a disguise in the last town they stayed in. Gone was Sansa Stark’s long auburn hair. In its place was Alayne Stone’s short black bob. She had cried when he made the cut but he admired her resiliency after that. Her new hair paired with a set of dark sunglasses and she looked unrecognizable. 

“She’s with me.”

“Your…?”

“Daughter.”

“Of course.”

The clerk looked skeptical. He’d probably seen all manner of scandalous intrigues as the owner of an out of the way motel. Hopefully he knew how to be discreet as well. 

“We’ll put you two in lucky number 6. How does that sound?”

“That’s fine.” He rushed, just wanting the interaction to end. Petyr paid the man in cash and took the key. He grabbed Sansa’s elbow and steered her out the door. 

“Why the hell did you come inside?”

“There was a weird man in the parking lot. I didn’t feel safe waiting in the car.”

“Fine,” He let the matter drop. 

They gathered their meager items and entered their room. It was quaint and serviceable: two full beds, a table and two chairs, a television, a nightstand with a lamp, tacky pictures of cacti on the walls, a bathroom and most importantly an air conditioner. Sansa immediately went to turn it on. She stuck her head right in front of the cool breeze and the delight on her face was immeasurable. 

Petyr put his pack on a chair at the table and removed the gun from the back of his jeans. He checked the safety and then the magazine. He didn’t like to use guns, wasn’t really the type to get his hands dirty. He had people for that. But better safe than sorry. 

“I’m going to take a shower.”

Sansa didn’t seem to hear him so he turned to go into the bathroom bringing a clean pair of boxers and a shirt with him, shutting the door behind him. He needed a quiet moment to think, to reflect on the events of the past week. 

Under the hard spray he let his mind wander. Joffrey was dead, the imp was being charged in the crime. Sansa was a wanted woman fleeing into the wind. He had to get her to safety and then work on enacting the next phase of his plans. He always had plans. The kingdom may see him as their genial money man but the spider Varys knew the truth of it. They both dealt in secrets and lies, scheming and devising. He just had to make sure not to let his ambition get the best of him.

When he got out of the bathroom he saw that Sansa had moved to the bed. She was laying with her head at the foot of the bed her arm hanging over the side drawing lazy circles on the carpet. Her skirt was slightly hitched up in this position so the backs of her creamy thighs were visible. The room was pleasantly cool now that the air conditioning had been running for a while. 

“You can shower now if you wish.”

“Maybe later.” Her voice was slightly muffled by the mattress. 

He wanted to turn on the TV, to see what was happening in King’s Landing, but he didn’t want Sansa to see the news reports. Even though facing what happened could be a good thing. She had been in a mood ever since they had high tailed it out of the city. Maybe she was mourning her old life. Though he couldn’t see why. She was treated like shit; a puppet to be manipulated by Cersei and a plaything for when Joffrey’s demeanor turned sour. She was better off with him. 

Suddenly she bounced up onto her knees and stared him straight in the eyes, “I want to play a game.” She spoke with determination.

“Games can be dangerous. What did you have in mind?” He replied cautiously.

“Will you do what I tell you to? Anything I tell you to?”

“Depends. What are we playing for?”

“What are we always playing for? You used to watch me, when we were at court. I know there’s a part of you that wants me.” Her voice was soft but contained a playful lilt.

“You don’t know what you are asking for.” He swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to pretend that he had thought of Sansa solely in an innocent fashion. 

“I think I’m old enough to decide for myself.” She slid off the bed and moved to stand before him. She was tall for her age, just a couple inches shorter than him. The alignment of their bodies chest to chest, hip to hip was something of a turn on for Petyr. She had a woman’s body, even if she didn’t quite know how to use it yet. 

“Will you do what I ask?” She repeated.

“Okay.” He was willing to see how this would play out, for now.

“Turn in a circle. All the way around,” She began.

He complied after a pause, turning slowly until he was facing her again. 

“Pat your head.” He did as she asked. “Now rub your stomach.”

He dropped his arms, “You expect me to act like a dog doing stupid tricks.”

“Quiet,” she reprimanded. “Now do as I asked.”

He rolled his eyes and obeyed. She gave a small giggle at the sight. He didn’t like to be humiliated, didn’t like it at all. He was about to stop when Sansa spoke again.

“Take off your shirt.” He looked in her eyes to see if she was bluffing but she seemed resolute so he removed the garment. 

She reached out to touch his chest, feeling the fine hairs that grew there. His muscle twitched and she followed it with her fingers. “Take off your underwear.”

His eyes never left hers as he slowly hooked his thumbs in his boxers and brought them down past his knees. She hadn’t looked yet. He wanted to laugh at that.

“Touch yourself,” She began uncertainly. Sansa cleared her throat and repeated herself with more authority, “I said touch yourself.”

He took his cock in hand and ran his palm along the length of it. Moving back up he gave the base a squeeze and continued stroking the shaft. He had never done this in front of a woman before. He was surprised to find himself getting hard already. She looked down finally and her eyes widened. Sansa visibly gulped. He gave a short bark of laughter and smirked. “It isn’t quite what you had imagined, is it?”

“It’s so much more vulgar.” Sansa’s lip curled in distaste.  
He reached out to pull her to him but she jumped back. “No. Go sit on the bed. Sit on your hands since you can’t keep them to yourself.”

She was frustrating him and he growled in response. But he sat on the bed anyways with his hands under his thighs, his cock heavy between his legs. 

She walked backwards to put a bit of distance between herself and Petyr, stumbling slightly on the last step. She took a deep breath looking like she was mustering up courage. In a flash her shirt was up over her head. She dropped it in the pile with Petyr’s clothes. Next she undid her bra sliding the straps one by one down her arms. Her skirt and underwear were the last to go, pooling at her feet.

He wasn’t afraid to look, like she had been, and look he did. She was beautiful; all smooth skin and firm features. He was itching to touch her. Sansa looked indecisive, like she didn’t know what to do next. She inched closer and tentatively brought her hand up to his face. But he had had enough of her childish games. Petyr caught her wrist and stood abruptly, surprising Sansa. She tried to back away but he was pulling her towards him. His hands moved to the sides of her head and his mouth descended on hers. It wasn’t gentle, this kiss. He wasn’t in the mood for gentle. If Sansa wanted gentleness and courtesy for her first time she shouldn’t have come to him. 

Sansa pushed him away, “What are you doing? This isn’t how we play the game.” She said apprehensively.

“Fuck the game.” And he kissed her hard again. One hand wrapped tightly in her hair while the other roamed down her body. He cupped her ass and brought them skin to skin. She gasped into his mouth and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in. Her mouth was warm and her tongue soft. Sansa seemed to come out of her stupor and started to respond, moving her tongue experimentally against his own. 

He broke apart, twisting her around, and pushed her on to the bed. She bounced slightly, her breasts bobbing with the motion. Sansa looked somewhat nervous. She was chewing her bottom lip and her breathing was shallow. He stalked towards her and grabbed her ankle. Petyr pulled sharply until her bottom was lined up with the edge of the bed. 

He needed to touch more of her so he trailed his hands down her taut stomach, over her slim hips to caress her inner thighs. Sansa watched him guardedly. He brought his hand between her legs and she sucked in a ragged breath. No one had touched her like this before and something dark and possessive within him celebrated that fact. 

He had his thumb rubbing small circles on her clit and his index finger curling up into her. She seemed to relax under his touch. Petyr removed his hand and she whimpered. He popped his finger in his mouth and licked it clean. Her musk was light but pleasant.

Her eyes narrowed and she gave a disgusted look. “Why would you do something like that? It’s unsanitary.” 

He chuckled. “Don’t you want to know what you taste like?”

“Eww, no.”

Petyr positioned himself between her legs and hoisted her hips until their bodies made contact. “This may hurt a little,” He warned.

She managed a short nod before he sunk himself inside her. Sansa hissed and her eyes slammed shut. Petyr moved slower this time setting a rhythm he favored. The position was growing uncomfortable so he pulled out. Sansa opened her eyes.

“Move up on the bed,” He commanded.

She scooted backwards and he followed her. Entering her again he found a better angle. He took his time, somewhat for Sansa’s benefit, his pace almost leisurely. Petyr ran his tongue up the long column of her throat. She tasted like salt and dust. Sansa moaned and searched for his mouth. He gave her a kiss and then hitched her leg higher up on his hip. She took the hint and wrapped her legs around his waist. 

She was inexperienced, that much was obvious. But she was a quick study. He liked that. It bode well for her future. He could teach her things, mold her in ways she couldn’t imagine. The prospect was tantalizing. 

“Get on your knees.” He was the one giving directions now. It was his game to fashion. She gave him an unreadable look but turned around, palms flat on the bed. He pushed into her from behind, hands grasped firmly on her hips. He didn’t want to go slow anymore. 

He set a fast pace, fingers leaving mottled bruises on her pale flesh. Skin slapped against skin, the sound echoing with their labored breaths. For all he knew Sansa thought the whole thing was obscene. Her hand slipped and her face planted into the bedspread. She kept it there hidden under her elbow. Her other hand moved to her clit. Petyr felt her tighten around him and she smothered a cry.

He pulled out and pushed her onto her back. Stroking himself one, two, three times, he felt his whole body stiffen and sticky reams of semen shot out and landed on her chest and abdomen. Petyr grunted and collapsed onto his side.

He had the feeling he rendered her speechless, if her shocked expression was anything to go by. She blinked rapidly and blushed a deep crimson. Silently she slipped out from under him, grabbed some clothes from the floor and locked herself in the bathroom.

Petyr rolled onto his back pulling the covers over him. He rubbed his face and sighed. It was filthy, he knew that. But he was caught up in the moment. Sansa did things to him. Made him lose control in ways he didn’t like. He heard the shower running. 

When she came out of the bathroom she had on his shirt as well as her skirt. “I want to get food from the vending machine.” She said, her gaze flitting from his face to the floor. 

“Be careful.”

“I need money,” Sansa rolled her eyes as if stating the obvious.

“My wallet’s on the table.”

She grabbed a couple bills and left the room, closing the door gently behind her. Sansa returned shortly, her arms laden with processed goods. “I got you a coke and a bag of chips. Didn’t really know what you wanted.”

“That’s fine.” He took the soda and chips from her and put them on the nightstand. 

Instead of returning to his side she took up a position on the opposite bed. Something told him she wouldn’t be sharing with him anymore that night. That was fine if she needed space.

“What are we going to do now? After we leave here tomorrow I mean.” She popped the top of her soda and took a sip.

“We should try to make it across to the Fingers. My home should provide some shelter. And then I think we should journey on to your aunt’s place in the Eyrie. The further away from King’s Landing we can get the safer we’ll be.” 

“I never want to go back,” She said with sudden conviction.

“And you never shall,” He promised her.

“What about you? What about your position at court? Won’t they know you’re helping me?”

“Hopefully not. But let me worry about that. Anyways, they think I’m away in the country on business. Finish your food. We should get some sleep. Don’t know when we’ll get the opportunity to stop again.”

She upended the last of the bag of pretzels into her mouth and took a remaining swig of soda before dumping them in the trash. Sansa got under the sheets and turned away from him to fall asleep. He switched the lamp off and the room was covered in darkness, the only light (the source being the neon motel sign) coming in from the cracks between the curtains. 

He couldn’t sleep. He was too keyed up by all the events that took place with Sansa. He didn’t quite know if he felt guilty about taking advantage of her. She wanted to play it one way but there was often only Petyr’s way. Did that make him selfish? When it came to Sansa he found himself becoming a very selfish man, and sometimes a very foolish one as well. He would have to be careful about that. He had worked too long and too hard to throw away all his ambitions over a girl who looked like his lost love. She could be important though, would be important if he had anything to say about it. She could bring down the Lannisters bit by bit. Sansa had already played her part well. 

He glanced over at the girl. Her breathing had steadied. She had drifted off to sleep hopefully not to be plagued by the nightmares of days past. Petyr turned over, closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.

Morning came at dawn with the sound of the television being turned on. Sansa was already up and dressed. She was sitting cross legged on the bed flipping channels with the remote.

“We should get an early start,” It was the only thing he could think to say to her. She nodded, absently. He went to the bathroom to change for the day. She didn’t look at him as he crossed the room naked. 

When he came out she had settled on a morning chat show. Cersei was being interviewed by a sympathetic host. It turned his stomach, the display the woman was putting on. He had no doubt she mourned for her son. But the boy was a monster and the sheer pageantry the kingdom insisted upon for a funeral was astounding. 

“You don’t need to watch that. Turn it off. We should head out anyways.” Sansa complied and hopped off the bed.

They gathered their things and exited out the door. 

“I want real food; from a diner or a café. No drive-throughs. I’m sick of them-” Sansa started to speak.

She stopped suddenly and grabbed his arm, “There’s that weird man again. The same one I saw last night.”

A man in a white rumpled leisure suit tipped his Panama hat in their direction and then loped into the motel office. Petyr didn’t like the look of him. He had a feeling they might have been made.

“Get in the car Sansa and stay there.” He said tightly while handing her the keys. “If things turn south drive as far away from here as you can. Stay away from the big cities.”

“What are you going to do?” She asked nervously.

“What I have to.” Petyr checked for the gun at his back. “Now get in the car.”

Sansa did as she was told without complaining for once. He took a steadying breath and headed for the front office. 

Petyr squinted through the dust obscured window. The man was talking to the motel owner. Then the owner picked up a telephone receiver from the counter.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Petyr entered the building and the two men paused. 

“Put the phone down.” He said calmly but firmly.

“I don’t think so,” The motel owner shook his head.

“You’ve been hiding something precious here.” The man in the Panama hat lisped. “Didn’t think we would find her with you though.”

So he was a Lannister spy or a sympathizer at the very least.

“She’s the Stark girl.” The motel owner confirmed. “I should have known last night.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that. We could have come to some arrangement.” 

Noticing a change in the tension in the room the man in the white suit made to pull a revolver out of his holster. Petyr was quicker to draw. The motel owner fled to the back room, phone forgotten off the hook.

Petyr aimed for the man’s chest but the shot went wide and hit his shoulder. The man tensed and dropped his gun, a very fortuitous situation for Petyr. He fired again and this time his aim was true. The man in the Panama hat went down clutching his chest. Blood poured out of the wound and further stained the grime coated floor of the office. Petyr’s ears were ringing and the smell of cordite hung in the air.

Out of the corner of his eye Petyr saw the motel owner come out from the back and bring up a shotgun. He ducked in front of the counter just as the owner managed to squeeze off a shot. A pellet lodged itself in his arm however and he growled in pain. 

“You’re not leaving this place alive. The bounty on her head’s too good to pass up.”

Petyr was in a bad position, stuck in front of the counter. It was the only cover he had in the open office. Bargaining for their lives was going to be a hard sell. He didn’t have the money to top what the Lannisters were offering for Sansa. Besides there was no guarantee that his role in her flight would stay hidden. The man had to die. 

He shimmied to the where the counter opened up to let people through. Petyr peered swiftly through the opening. The owner had half his body out in the open, shotgun up. 

“Just come out and finish this like a man. Or are you craven?” 

Petyr remained quiet so as to not give his position away. Moving quickly, he turned and shot the owner in the leg. The man stumbled to a knee and howled. Petyr slid under the counter and kicked the gun away from the motel owner. He didn’t wait for the man to begin begging for his life before he shot him in the head. 

This whole situation was a mess: two dead Lannisters, his blood and prints at the scene, Sansa still waiting for him in the car. He could fix this. He had to try. There wasn’t much he could do at the motel. He could wipe down his prints but he was still bleeding all over the place. They needed to get out of town, get as far away as possible.

Taking one last glance at the office, he exited the building and headed for the car. He could see Sansa’s wide eyes tracking him as he made his way to the driver’s side.

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding!” Her hand came up to gingerly touch his shoulder when he got inside. 

“It will be fine.” He replied ignoring the pain, running on adrenaline.

“No it needs to be cleaned up.”

“Sansa I just killed two men in there for you. They may have alerted the authorities. We have to get out of here. Now.” He threw the car in reverse and backed out of the lot. Tires squealed as he put the car in drive and floored it down the two lane highway out of town. 

He was coming to the uncomfortable realization that he would do anything for this girl. She had a hold on him the likes of which he hadn’t felt since he was a boy. He turned his head to glance at her. She looked worried. He wanted to reassure her. Tell her that he had things under control but he didn’t feel in control. Things were rapidly spinning away from him. 

They were out of town now and back on open road. They were by no means safe. But he would try his best for her sake. Because she deserved that much from him. And he had plans. He always had plans.


End file.
